Sevek's Journey to a New Dwelling
by catstop
Summary: Have you seen the commercials with Sevek, the Vulcan mortgage customer who says he prefers labradoodles? Well, I'm going to stuff him into canon. Follow the journey of Sevek to his career in life coaching on Earth, plus a new domicile. Sevek x His Wife, who I named T'Zel for this work. Semi-canon Vulcan, Spock may appear later!
1. Meet Sevek

DISCLAIMER: I don't own Star Trek, Sevek, or the mortgage company who funded his creation. Nor am I the sick, sick genius at some ad agency who created him.

If you haven't seen the commercials with "Sevek" on getting his new mortgage, you're missing out BIG TIME. It says he's a life coach on the screen...I can't even...that's too funny. Lookup on Youtube "Star Trek mortgage Sevek" to see them, there's a bunch of short ones, too. This guy might be the best semi-sorta-canon Vulcan ever.

Since it's _kinda_ cannon, and a Vulcan life coach who likes labradoodles is too funny to pass up, I decided to brush off my questionable fiction writing skills and try this.

* * *

They laughed when he applied as the USS Eagle's newly christened role as the ship counselor, but he handled their skepticism with practiced ease.

After all, he was accustomed to the visual and audible emotional reaction of humorous stimuli from both his human mother's behavior and his _two_ PhDs in human psychology.

He reminisced as he ran his hand across the smooth marble of the countertop, so alike yet different from the one they had on Vulcan. This had been his grandmother's home and he had visited it for a week every other year as a child.

This house stood for the side of himself that he had long been denied, his human side.

He remembered his grandmother putting down the tall box of unfamiliar food on this very counter along with the jug of then-unknown white liquid, telling him to get the kid's dishes from the lower cabinet and "get his breakfast ready".

So he got a plate and cautiously poured out the strange pellets from the box, and then the liquid into the plastic bowl as he would plomeek soup. Taking a fork he went straight for the strange balls of grain, but they kept breaking open or rolling around as he tried to stab them.

 _What an illogical breakfast_ , he remembered thinking before the boom of human laughter surrounded him. His grandmother's laughter was kind, but mocking all the same.

" _What is amusing, foremother?"_

" _I told you not to call me that, and that's not how you make cereal, silly. What has your mother been feeding you on the dust bowl you call home?"_

Yes, he had many memories in this house. From those fateful trips to Earth as a child, to his departure from the planet of his birth to this house to pursue his further education.

He thought of his wife T'Zel, living apart from him on Vulcan as was often practiced in their culture, and their conversation before he left, years ago.

" _Human psychology? Why do you wish to study such a subject? Has your logic taken leave of you, my husband? You wish to surround yourself with emotion all day?"_

 _"I have spent my entire life so far in pursuit of understanding all that is Vulcan. This is an opportunity for me to understand that in me which is human, without compromising my disciplines."_

Sevek knew his wife wanted what was best for him, and he knew she had nothing against humans. This wasn't a forced bonding, she had **chosen** him.

But deep down, despite her stoic face, he knew even she was laughing at him.

Years later, after graduating with the highest honors and working in a variety of internships and immersive training programs, he had began to pursue career opportunities within human counseling and therapy.

But alas, he encountered constant problems in securing a position in human social work or psychological counseling.

Everywhere he applied, they laughed. His educational accomplishments and accolades were the best they had ever seen. But seriously...a Vulcan? For a shrink? To work out your emotional problems with?

They laughed and laughed and laughed.

To try to bolster his credibility further, he formulated and released a groundbreaking paper on serial monogamy in humans and the psychological implications in child-rearing, with new counseling techniques for children from multi-family backgrounds. It was published in a prestigious journal and was a peer review smash, leading him to be invited to present at a conference.

Of course they spent half the time laughing instead of listening.

Except...for the Starfleet recruiting agent sitting in the back row, scouting for potential candidates for the trail runs of ship counseling positions.

Cmdr. Johnson had a crooked smile on his face as he watched such as emotional concept be presented in such a stoic way. It _was_ pretty funny, watching a Vulcan give this presentation on comforting human children, but Johnson knew he had found the recruit he came for.

The USS Eagle (NCC-N56) was having moral problems. Having cycled through _three_ captains in two years, command was considering completely re-assigning and rebuilding the crew.

However...that would look very bad on the interspecies integration council Johnson had been sent to represent.

The problem was that the Eagle had largest non-human crew in the fleet, an astounding 45%, including eight hybrids of various blends. But that still left a 55% human crew to consider, and it was creating factions and cliques within the culture of the ship.

Starfleet _really_ needed this experiment to work. And Johnson instantly knew that Sevek was the perfect match.

After all, who better to counsel and assess mix of humans, hybrids, and aliens than a Vulcan-hybrid with a an obsession with human psychology?

When presented, Sevek accepted the commander's offer with little thought.

He had heard of Spock and his rising success. He knew of T'Pol and her work in adding Vulcan philosophy to early Starfleet procedures, no matter what some said.

Four years later and here he stands, in his freshly pressed blue active duty uniform looking over his late grandmother's kitchen, which has been his for the last few years while at the academy, and thinking of how he got here.

But more so, his thoughts lie with where he will go next.

To Starfleet as the first-ever Vulcan counselor, though he doesn't intend on making a career in Starfleet. His aspirations still lie in working with the humans here on Earth. Perhaps as a counselor, perhaps as something related.

Perhaps something where they'll stop laughing at him.

Yes, he'll be back to this house. Hopefully, with T'Zel by his side. If she can accept him, perhaps she can accept this planet, this house, his mother's people. She's never been totally content on Vulcan anyhow, it's why she chose him.

Yes, there's room for two in this kitchen. But for now, he picks up his bag and shuts the door, off to his new life in the vastness of space.

* * *

Bachelor's always seem to think their house will be good enough for their future wife. Fat chance, this domicile will need to go!

I haven't written fiction in a long, long time. I can't even remember how to format dialogue. If anyone ever reviews this, please review as critically as possible, I'm very good with feedback. I'm working on chapter two.

If you don't think Sevek is a hybrid from that labradoodle comment, nothing will convince you. His favorite dog is a labradoodle, he must be mixed! **Canonical justifications on my profile.** Let me know what you think. All tpyos mine. (wink)


	2. Trouble with Transport

Sevek commercial writers, I have a question for you: why would a life coach be in Starfleet? _Why?!_ This would be a much, much shorter and less dramatic story if he wasn't wearing those darn science blues. Oh well.

Today it gets serious with Sevek on the USS Eagle. Still in "story setup" mode, hopefully the next chapter will be more entertaining. But I needed a reason to put a Vulcan psychologist on a Starship at this point in timeline, and that reason needs some footing to it.

Disclaimer: see chapter one. I still don't own Sevek, Star Trek, or the dog with the Vulcan haircut. I don't even own a regular dog. Do you think I could give my cat...? Nah, her hair is too short. Darn it!

* * *

Sevek felt the still-unfamiliar tingle as he materialized on the transporter pad, bag over one shoulder and orders in hand.

But when he arrived, nobody was there.

He looked around, his mind whirling with questions. Who had just energized him? Where was the receiving officer? _What was going on?_

After standing at attention in the empty transporter room for 47.3 minutes, thinking this was perhaps a patience test, it was becoming clear that nobody was going to greet him and accept his orders, as was protocol.

He relaxed his posture and hesitantly stepped off the platform. "Is someone here?"

Sevek hadn't been sure what to expect. He had been briefed by his recruiting officer the bare minimum of information: they had a large percentage of non-human crewman and officers, and had major moral issues. Internal cliques and factions were forming, and the ship had burnt through multiple Captains, but the same first officer.

As he had been a cadet before this experimental posting, he hadn't had the security clearance to review their profiles or receive detailed information. And the processing officer, so amused by the "Vulcan shrink" had been little help in securing further documentation.

But even with these excuses, Sevek was beginning to get a glimpse at why previous attempts at reconciling this crew might have failed.

Why didn't he receive more information on his project from the counseling board? Where was the transporter operator? _What was wrong with this ship_ , and why did Starfleet think he could fix such an obviously incompetent crew?

He was a counselor, not an officer. He would literally have to be the last person alive to be in command, but still with no formal authority even then, a byproduct of his accelerated Academy training.

He had been anticipating psychological issues on account of the highly mixed crew, and as a hybrid, he knew the pain of the rejection from those around on the account of genetics all too well.

But this wasn't a psychology problem, this was gross negligence! Anyone could walk in and transport anywhere! And how did they transport him without touching the panel?

Sevek supposed they could be linked to the station's transporters. But why go through all that trouble just to confuse him?

Now having been standing around in this transporter room for over an hour, he moved towards the door and was rewarded by it's automatic swoosh.

He glanced around the hallway and decided to go left, not really knowing where he was going. He was _supposed_ to have been supplied with access codes to all ship layout and personnel files and escorted to his quarters.

Finally, Sevek saw a human woman in an Ensign's uniform approaching.

Putting his psychological training and experience in interacting with humans to work, he approached her with the proper body language. Open posture, lifting one hand slightly towards her while maintaining a respectable distance, and following proper linguistic procedure:

"Excuse me miss, do you know-"

But before he could finish his sentence, she had disappeared around the corner. Sevek suppressed a frown and turned to follow her, adjusting the bag on his shoulder as he went.

"Excuse me? Miss?" His long stride caught him up to her quickly, but she suddenly stopped and looked up at him, her green eyes flashing.

"Get lost, freak."

And with that, she turned on her heel and stalked right back down the hall, leaving Sevek staring after her dumbfounded. Wondering, not for the first time since he materialized on this ship, what was wrong with these people.

"They are extremely emotional."

He spun around at the unexpected voice from behind, and was greeted by an unusually short Vulcan woman. Her skin was a dark olive hue, indicating her from the north-western region his mate T'Zel was from, but curiously, her accent didn't _quite_ match.

Sevek straightened at her presence. She was wearing the blue uniform of a science officer, and bore Commander's stripes. He abstracted she must be T'Jor, the Eagle's Vulcan science officer and second in command.

He raised the ta'al and recited the ritual phrase. "I come to serve."

She returned the gesture. "Your service honors us."

She looked him over, and then extended her hand towards him, and he was suddenly reminded of the gesture of the human handshake. But then he remembered he still had his orders, and he handed them over.

"Sevek S'Ker'Val'Jar, reporting for duty."

T'Jor simply nodded and tucked the PADD under her arm, saying nothing further, seemingly awaiting a response to her original statement on the passing Ensign's emotionalism.

Sevek paused, carefully considering the Vulcan woman before him.

As second in command, she was largely responsible for the efficiency of the ship. She had also been an officer under the last four captains, and pre-dated almost anyone on the ship, including in the Eagle's pre-moral issue days under the late, great Captain Jovar.

The fact that the Eagle's crew relations were struggling, though its output and productivity was higher than most other ships, said something about _her_ command style.

He decided to take her bait. "Who is extremely emotional?"

T'Jor raised her eyebrow and slightly tilted her head, a Vulcan-style scoff at the absurdity of the question. "The off worlders. Who else?" she paused. "Where is your receiving officer?"

Sevek shifted slightly, unsure of how to explain the awkward situation of him walking through the halls without his orders being accepted.

"I do not know. The transport room was unattended, and after waiting for 62.78 Federation standard minutes, I was never greeted. I walked down this hall to investigate. The first person I encountered was the human Ensign, and then you moments later."

Her face betrayed no emotion as she stared him down, as if considering something. After a moment of silence, she sighed so slightly he almost missed it.

"I am not surprised. I was detained in an emergency briefing, and assigned Lt. Rah-Likn'n to receive your orders and show you to your quarters."

She paused, as if weighing her words carefully, and continued. "However, this incident further confirms what I already knew. The Lieutenant is illogically prejudiced against our kind."

 _Our_ kind. She didn't point out that he was a hybrid as many did - your _father's_ kind - which was a step in the right direction. And she had made no comment about his career choice, which was a welcome change as well.

Sevek wasn't sure what to say. From his encounter with the crewmen in the hall and his briefing on the psychological state of this ship, he was already aware of the emergence of internal cliques, though he was frankly _shocked_ at the intensity of these issues.

From the missing officer and transporter chief, to the passing Ensign's behavior, even T'Jor referring to her crewmates as off worlders and calling them extremely emotional - a grave insult in Vulcan culture - the lack of cohesion in this crew was quite baffling.

He had many questions about the psychology of this ship, but one concern in particular was burning a hole in his mind: why had Starfleet allowed it to get this bad?

"I see." Sevek finally said. Her response raised the question on why she sent a someone she knew would be hostile towards him, but he figured she had a logical reason and didn't press the issue. Perhaps she was giving him a taste of the work laid out for him?

She nodded in satisfaction at his lack of further questions, then turned and began down the hall. "Follow me. **I** will show to your quarters and issue your access codes."

He nodded and followed her to the turbolift, and they both stood silently as the lift commenced towards the deck he would apparently be living on.

Even though he was in Starfleet for now, he would have much rather worked in a civilian psychological practice, but alas his "hilarious" status as Vulcan counselor for humans had prevented him from doing so.

But even without a background in the organization beyond the last two years, he had gone through enough training in Starfleet Academy's accelerated program that Sevek was having a hard time believing so far had occurred.

Can commissioned officers just no-show new transfers, leaving the transport room abandoned and Ensigns could storm the halls insulting others with no repercussions within a military organization?

Though he was confident he wasn't projecting telepathically, T'Jor seemed to have guessed his train of thought and addressed it without further prompt.

"I assure you both Lt. Rah-Likn'n and Ensign Verda will be disciplined," she stated confidently.

Sevek felt a surge of excitement, not that they would be disciplined, but that T'Jor had just cracked the door of insight to more about this ship. Understanding disciplinary behaviors for such gross violations of protocol could give a major view into the dynamic of command, and her command in particular.

Sevek paced his reply, seeking to project Vulcan calm to his greatest degree. "As the counselor tasked with understanding and reconciling the personnel of this vessel, may I ask what type of discipline will be administered and how the proceedings will occur?"

But T'Jor stared silently straight forward, not answering his question and saying nothing for the rest of the trip. The lift slowed to a stop, and the Vulcan woman stepped forward as if to leave, but then stilled in the doorway, facing the hall so Sevek couldn't see her face.

"They will be dealt with... _ **adequately**_ ," she stated before breezing out of the lift and down the hall towards his quarters.

Sevek followed her and considered T'Jor anew.

He _had_ expected reluctance or even hostility from officers and crewmen to his presence.

They were used to running things their own way, and having a non-ranking officer wield influence over them and asking uncomfortable questions was unlikely to be well received.

But Sevek _was_ surprised she gave no logical reason for her refusal to share information, considering the situation involved him directly and he did have clearance for such information, something she would have briefed on when she received his orders from Starfleet Command.

Was there something she didn't want him to know about the ship's discipline program? Her reaction had been a bit odd, but Sevek couldn't quite tell.

Ironically, Vulcan psychology was his worst subject when it came to counseling. He had great respect and dedication to the _culture_ of his birth, but the people themselves did often did not live up to their own standards of logic and rationality.

Hypocrisy did not sit well with him, and it was part of why he had left for Earth.

But then again, perhaps he was overthinking her response. Perhaps she was unused to sharing information about the discipline of those under her command or was unsure of the Captain's stance on him.

Yes, she probably had some logical reason, and he put it aside in his mind and began to formulate a plan to use his newly-acquired personnel file access codes to begin creating psychological profiles of this in positions of power.

He thought no further of T'Jor and her slightly odd behavior. After all, he was quite the oddity himself - as those around him _constantly_ reminded him.

But somewhere, deep in the depths of his long-repressed human half - his _intuition_ , as it was called - there was something about her, something in the way she said "adequately" that was...off.

Though he did not acknowledge the thought nor allow it to surface to his conscious mind, he _knew_ that Commander T'Jor was a big part of the Eagle's problem, if not the problem herself.

* * *

So… I don't remember how to introduce characters in fiction and this was way longer than I anticipated spending on T'Jor, but she's important so I'll leave it for now.

My fiction skills are DUSTY. I've been trying to study dialogue creation further, I really don't know how to write it. Looks like it's statement → physical descriptor, back and forth between the members of the conversation. Or at least that's one way, I'll try that for now.

Let me know what you think, I take criticism _very_ well and I'm trying to get a "method" setup for writing the rest of this story. Un-beta'd, all tpyos are mine. (wink)


	3. Waffle Conspiracy

Disclaimer remains, I don't own Star Trek. I'm kind of glad I didn't make up Sevek - that means more FF writers might use him in fics! If you haven't seen the commercials featuring the Vulcan life coach yet, go check them out on YouTube.

Thanks for all of the reviews, subs, and favorites. And a big special thank you to Tom Foolery for your encouragement. I highly recommend all of their Star Trek works, especially if you like Sarek/Amanda or reading continuity-friendly Trek.

* * *

It had only been 64.74 hours and Sevek was already regretting taking this job. While he had been recruited and entered in an accelerated training program just for this position, perhaps he could have requested a different posting.

Somewhere where the people weren't _insane_.

Sevek looked back to his report. He was supposed to send a series of reports about his first few days as the USS Eagle's newly-created role as Ship Counselor. One to the Interspecies Integration board, one to Command, and one to the new Counseling Center.

He had been ordered to familiarize himself with the crew and their practices. This resulted in him basically being given free rein to explore the ship and its people, but not to actually touch anything, as the crew members had so frequently reminded him over the last few days.

This freedom of movement had, of course, made the already fractured and defensive crew _furious_. Everywhere he went crew members scoffed and scorned him, demanding to know why he was here and insisting he leave.

He offered his services and asked questions everywhere he went, typically receiving no reply or expletives directed at his mother - which is patently illogical considering they knew nothing about her - but he continued on faithfully.

Sevek leaned forward in his desk chair and slowly lowered his head on his forearms while exhaling a deep breath - a human gesture, he was well aware - and considered the situation.

His concerns were no longer limited to what to do about counselling the crew but _what he was going to tell Starfleet._

* * *

 _ **62.51 hours earlier...**_

Shortly after his strange encounter with T'Jor, he had began reviewing the crew dossier.

It was an unusual mix but the crew selection was seemingly logical: they were capable, qualified, and well-behaved officers _before_ they arrived on the USS Eagle.

There was no unusual rate of disciplinary hearings, complaints, or sudden, unexplained transfers from the majority of the crew's previous postings and academy records.

 _Except_ for Lt. Rah-Likn'n, his original receiving officer who failed to meet him in the transporter room and accept his orders, leaving him to wander the halls confused.

She had every criminal and social charge she could have without being dishonorably discharged, and likely some unreported. Like the one against him.

He had no idea how she made Lieutenant, and there was no reason in her file. He hypothesized she had been ceded in from previous military experience among her own people, in the way T'Pol once was.

Having been verbally assaulted out of four departments in one hour fifty-one minutes, he was on his way towards Engineering when he had spotted a reptilian woman in the hallway, who was none other than Lt. Rah-Likn'n.

"Ssssso you're the one who is going fixxx this mess?" Her right eye rotated in its socket, staring him up and down.

"I've been assigned to the counseling and reconciliation of the USS Eagle's crew. And I will, as you phrased it, attempt to fix this mess."

"How?" She quickly took a step forward and back, and Sevek wished more material was available on her species to be able to better interpret her psychological attributes. Afterall, T'Jor had implied she believed the Lieutenant to be one of the more xenophobic members of the crew.

"I will begin by observing the crew's behavior, and interviewing various members. I will also be holding office hours to allow for personalized counseling."

Rah-Likn'n made a strange choking sound and bobbed her head, and he realized she was laughing.

Typical.

At least she was supplying various behavioral patterns he would add to her file for future reference.

"Counssssseling? With a Vulcan? Why would anyone want _that_? Maybe out there." She swung her arm back, as if to illustrate the universe beyond the walls of the starship. "But certainly nobody in here," she finished and she folded her arm back towards her body.

Sevek was mentally cycling through his standard array of replies to Vulcan counselor-mocking, but then paused.

Maybe there was something to consider in her words.

"Why do you believe the crew of this ship would be less attuned to accepting help from a Vulcan counselor, in comparison to those outside of the Eagle?"

She gathered herself, squaring her shoulders and looking him straight in the eye.

"Because T'Jor is evil! And the rest of the Vulcans all do whatever she sssssays. Let me tell you everything she's done…"

Sevek stood there for the next two hours while she droned on and on with an endless list of conspiracy theories on T'Jor.

The list ranged from the vanilla "she believes Vulcans are better workers and gives them the best projects" to the more extreme "one of my friends said they saw a mental antenna sticking out of her head once; she could be an advanced android from an enemy planet."

She finally left when she claimed that the lowest deck labs were now open for use on personal projects and she was going to attempt to run various scans on her friends to see if T'Jor had been using _mind controlling devices_ on them.

He now understood why T'Jor thought Lt. Rah-Likn'n was against Vulcans. If she went around sprouting hairbrained conspiracies to whoever would listen, surely the science officer had heard them all by now.

"You know, they killed the lasssssst Vulcan hybrid, be careful," before turning and walking off.

Sevek was aware of the Vulcan-Trill hybrid who had served aboard the Eagle. The dead Ensign had been hit by a boulder while scanning in a cave on Metac-B. He had been accompanied by a human officer who was cleared of all misconduct. The investigation report stated it was a genuine accident. Hardly evidence of a murder plot by Vulcan officers, and almost certainly another one of her conspiracy theories.

Sevek sighed and considered the last two hours. Lt. Rah-Likn'n had loudly and repeatedly proclaimed that the Eagle had good crew members put in a toxic situation by the evil T'Jor and her Vulcan henchmen.

Based on the lack of history of misbehavior among the other crew members, Sevek already knew some environmental issues to be valid. It was highly unlikely that hundreds of seemingly good officers would randomly stop functioning properly at the same time without the same cause.

But due to the conspiratorial nature and absurdist claims she had made and racist nature of the rant, claiming only Vulcans caused problems and everyone else was perfect, her presented data was fully unreliable.

And Rah-Likn'n had admitted, despite her great efforts, she had not obtained a single piece of evidence.

He sighed again so lightly only a Ferengi could hear, wandering towards the mess hall in hope of more receptive individuals to discuss the on-board situation with.

* * *

Sevek sat down at the mess hall table and stared at his lunch. He had requested a vegetarian wrap, but had received a frozen rock-hard waffle instead. He wasn't surprised, but decided to rise above their theatrics and demonstrate his maturity to the crew.

As he attempted to cut through the traditional Earth breakfast item still in stasis, he suddenly felt the table beneath him jolt as a blonde male human jumped up on the bench seating.

"Hey everyone," the young Ensign shouted, and Sevek felt the eyes focus their attention on him.

The blonde continued, "Look at our new babysitter! Starfleet thinks so little of us that they sent their worst shrink - _a Vulcan_ \- to fix their worst ship! The irony!"

The room broke into laughter, as always.

Sevek stared at them defiantly before returning to his waffle-cutting project.

"Is that a _frozen waffle_?" The Ensign grabbed the waffle, held it up, and announced, "Even the replicators don't like him!"

The room exploded in laughter.

Sevek ignored them and reached to retrieve his food from the Ensign. He paused as he noticed two Vulcans seated near the back of the room, watching the scene unfold.

One was an older male with pale skin and salt and pepper hair. Sevek knew his name was Tilok from the roster. The other was about Sevek's age who appeared to be from the capital city, but Sevek didn't recognize him. Perhaps he was visiting?

He saw the younger Vulcan's lips tilt up ever so slightly and glance at his companion, an air of mirth passing between them. They both glanced up and caught his gaze before looking back towards each other.

In other words, they were also laughing.

Sevek momentarily closed his eyes and steadied his breath. The events of the day were wearing on him. He hadn't been this bothered by taunting in a long time.

He stood and strode out of the mess hall without another word. As he made his way towards his quarters, the laughter and mocking chatter, still audible to his Vulcan hearing, reached all the way to the lift.

He wasn't hungry anymore.

* * *

61.21 hours went on like this.

Listening to conspiracy rants, getting thrown out of departments, encounters with obnoxious humans, subtle snubs from the Vulcans, and of course, having his profession, combined with his parentage, mercilessly mocked.

While Sevek felt he capable of handling all of this for an extended period of time, it was, to use a human phrase, getting old fast.

He knew he had to write those reports, but decided to take care of another matter first.

Sevek glanced in the mirror as he used his index finger to straighten his precise Vulcan bangs, then nodded in satisfaction with his appearance. He sat down at the console and initiated the recording function, eager to get a message out...so he could get one back.

"My wife, it is my desire that in the 79.89 hours since I last received a communication from you, your experiences have been pleasing..."

Sevek trailed off and frowned slightly, and then pressed the key to delete that draft. Desire? Pleasing? Way too emotional; she expected better from him.

He briefly considered meditating before sending his message, but then reactivated the terminal and began again.

"Greetings my wife. I am contacting you because…"

Why was he contacting her? _Oh right_ , he wanted her to send him a message and make him feel better without meditating for five hours. But he couldn't say that. Delete.

"Greetings T'Zel. I am contacting you to inform you my experience on the USS Eagle has so far been….illuminating. The crew is-"

He paused the recording again. What _was_ he going to tell her? He couldn't say how poorly his experience had been thus far as that would be confirmation of her doubts about his decisions. If he said nothing, surely she would ask.

He decided to play it safe, deleting the recording and starting again.

"Greetings my wife. I am calling to enquire about your meeting with Chairman Sirok, and verifying your well being. I am adapting to my new position aboard the USS Eagle."

There. He _was_ adapting. He decided to conclude with a slightly emotional ending.

"I wish you a prosperous and productive day, my T'Zel."

* * *

Sevek gently flopped down on his bed, fully aware of the immaturity of such an action.

He had finished the reports, but the process had been highly unsatisfactory.

He could propose no solution yet, though he was confident Command was going to demand one. Perhaps when they heard his first-hand report on the condition of the ship, they would order it back and re-build, casting aside the politics.

He needed a plan, something clever to get through to the more receptive members of the crew. The Captain and the Chief Engineer will be returning in a few days from their away mission; perhaps they will be helpful.

Suddenly his PADD chirped, indicating a new message. He all but flew out of bed, illogically thinking T'Zel had already replied. He controlled himself, considering it was hardly possible the relay had already occurred. It was most likely his mother or a colleague back on Earth.

His eyes widened when he saw the subject line: COUNSELING REQUEST.

One of the crew members had reached out to him! He had to actively suppress his joy.

Perhaps being laughed at for three days had paid off after all.

* * *

Poor Sevek. I think my introductions are done for now, going to try to get further into the meat next time...with Sevek's first counseling session! Trying to make him less melancholy than Spock's hybrid angst. Justifications for canon are on my profile.


	4. The Solution in the Oven

Disclaimer: still the same. If Sevek seems slightly less Vulcan-ish than he should be, remember he's a hyrbid. Also, I'm using a character that someone else created, and that character was not super stoic. Also, having attempted to every episode that contains a Vulcan or Romulan in all three franchises (read: not Spock), many are a lot more expressive than Spock. Thanks!

* * *

Sevek stared blankly at the Lieutenant sprawled out on the couch.

"I jussssst happened to be watching the ssssssub-space monitoring ssssspectrum in engineering, and right as T'Jor beamed on the ship, the ssssignal boosted…"

This was _not_ a counseling session. He had been quite disappointed when he opened the message on his PADD to discover the request had been made by Lt. Rah-Likn'n.

Not only had she scheduled this phony counseling session and was currently inundating him with more conspiracy theories, but she had requested one every day for a week!

"And jussssst as I rounded the corner, I sssssaw her stuff the device…"

Finally, Sevek could take no more. "Lieutenant!"

She jerked up at his sudden outburst. "Yesssss?"

"This is not the purpose of a counseling session, and your obsession with unsubstantiated theories is not healthy. I will _not_ continue to indulge this, but I an open to assisting you in understanding where your current mentality on this is stemming from."

She rotated both eyes towards him, moving them up and down independently of each other, and then deeply scowled.

"I have no ssssssuch problem! And it's your job to lisssssten to what I have to sssssay!"

Sevek exhaled deeply. Before he could explain, she lept to her feet.

"You're already failing at your only job! Jussssst like the rest of the Vulcansssss, you'll never do what you commit to while we do all the real work!"

Sevek raised a defiant eyebrow, quickly growing tired of dealing with this woman.

"I do not know the commitment habits among the other Vulcan officers. However, I do know you failed to receive my orders, leaving the transporter unattended and me to wander the halls aimlessly."

She brought her eyes fully into their sockets and stared him down. "I did no sssssuch thing! It's not my job to receive new officers, T'Jor does that! The first officer always doesssss! And I would never leave the transporter unattended; anyone could ussssssse it!"

Sevek narrowed his eyes. While it was true many first officers did receptions, there is no requirement for it to be done that way. Also, T'Jor has specifically said she was in an emergency briefing, which would be plenty reason to assign another officer.

"Ussssse your logic, Vulcan! Assssssuming I could receive your orderssss, why would I do ssssso and then purpossssssely come talk to you? Come to thissss _counssssseling_ thing?"

She waved her arms around as if she wasn't even sure what the purpose of it was. It dawned on Sevek she might not even know.

As he stood and considered what to say, she hissed at him and dashed out of the room.

Not for the first time, Sevek stood wondering what he had gotten himself into.

0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0

It was not a professional approach, but these were not professional people.

His mother would call it a gimmick, but after twelve days and four hours of attempting to address the Eagle's moral, a novel approach was need. He just needed it to _work_.

Sevek glanced down at his oven mitts in the shape of the ta'al as the chef stumbled around behind him. He intended on stopping the man from turning on any flame, considering his drunken stupor.

He thought back to receiving the "useful gag gift" from his mother many years ago. As far as he was aware, nothing of the sort was sold; she would have had to make them herself.

" _What is the purpose of these gloves?" He flexed his hands up and down in them, admiring the rich blue color so difficult to create with Vulcan organic dyes._

" _They're called oven mitts. I know you've been taking culinary classes for your elective. When you're on Earth next month, you'll need those to pull pans and dishes out of the oven or you'll burn yourself."_

" _Why? Are the dish handles not coated with anti-heat resin?"_

" _No, not on Earth. They're metal and will burn you to the touch."_

" _Inefficient," he lightly scoffed._

" _Stop acting like your father!" But her stern face broke into a smile as she laughed. With his mother, it was always a loving laugh, never the condemnation he faced from everyone else._

The chef suddenly broke into song behind him, interrupting the memories. He hadn't been able to think of a logical reason to do so at the time, but now he was glad he had brought the unique gift.

It had taken a negotiation like none other to get access to the kitchen. To do so, he had basically signed up to be the unpaid cleaning crew for the next month for the mess hall and kitchen. But Sevek was confident it would work out to his advantage.

The kitchen was mostly used to prepare foods the replicators couldn't handle for visiting dignitaries. It was also tasked to do base material prepping. But there was everything he needed for his project: pans, utensils, an oven, a sink, and prep space.

No artificial timer was needed as his Vulcan mind informed him it was time to take the latest set of baked goods from the oven. He slid them onto the rack on the counter next to his other creations, nodding his approval at the variety of cookies.

"Gehhh...smells good Selik. Sevork? Ah, whatever. Lemma have one of those…"

Sevek stepped back as the drunken chef grabbed a cookie. It broke in half as he picked it up from the still-unreleased heat.

He shoved the delicacy in his mouth and chewed. Turning towards Sevek, he loudly proclaimed, "These aren't half bad, Vulcan! Where'd you learn to make em like this," stuffing the other half in.

"I casually attended and then taught in a local culinary school for children to pay for my tuition in college. While replicators are convenient, most humans frequently proclaim the lack of comparative taste to the original version."

"Eh, you gonna eat these all yourself?"

Sevek raised one eyebrow. "Considering the quantity of the baked goods, I will certainly not be consuming them alone. Have a good day, and I will return tomorrow as agreed."

"Yeh, sure sure sure." The cook mumbled as he scooped up another two cookies before wandering off.

Sevek sighed. Did _anyone_ function properly on this ship?

By the time his baked goods had hardened and chilled to the appropriate usable level, mid-day had set in and a large number of people had gathered for lunch. He loaded all of the sweets onto large platters and set out for the mess hall.

As Sevek walked into the room, many sets of eyes glanced up in question at his array of items. The serially obnoxious blonde Ensign leaned far back in his chair and crossed his arms, casting a surly grin in the direction of the Vulcan.

Sevek raised a defiant eyebrow in response and strutted to an unoccupied spot on the table. He set the sweets on the table and placed a PADD containing their ingredients next to them.

With no additional ceremony, he held his head high and walked past the whispers and staring eyes out the door and towards the lift.

He must wait to see if his craftiness returned the results he anticipated.

0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0

Sevek scraped harder, wondering what someone had done to attach this food to the floor so thoroughly. Hadn't the floor been cleaned yesterday? Thinking to the inebriated state of the sole mess attendant, he thought perhaps not.

9.4 years of medical school and psychological education, 2.9 years in fellowship training, and 4.6 years in academic work, and look where it got him.

Scrubbing the mess hall of a Starship, he acknowledged this ship was something he never even really wanted to serve on. He was still unsure as to why the psychiatric practices and nonprofits he had applied to had rejected him, as he was fully qualified.

He was thankful T'Zel and his father couldn't see him at this moment on his knees, hand scrubbing the floor in the wee hours of the morning.

Sevek clamped his eyes shut and tried to focus his thoughts. He wasn't a scullery maid but this was the arrangement he made with the chef to get unrestricted access to the mostly abandoned kitchen. The unfortunate task was a side effect of his goal to reach the crew psychologically, which _was_ his job.

The whole idea of his plot stemmed from a study he had read a few years prior that analyzed the psychological effects of sharing food in human society. Knowing similar factors would work on Vulcans, he extended it to think it might be a factor for all beings that practice either forms of hunting-gathering or agriculture, as all those on this ship did.

In the study participants interacted in various settings and with different foods. The results showed that when humans are given pleasing food by another human without asking for direct compensation, a stronger rapport is built than small talk or compliments and they were more likely to work better together.

In parallel, his grandmother had always made and brought cookies to any event she attended. She asserted it made people like her before they met her. Over time, she made friends with people she hadn't even talked to based on their knowing she brought those delicious cookies.

Sevek decided to combine the two factors of psychological food sharing and the cookie gimmick into a last ditch attempt to get through to this crew. Replicating them wouldn't work as they could all do that.

But he had overheard many complaints about the substandard food of the replicators. He calculated that getting kitchen access and making the cookies fresh would prove to be irresistible to eat, even by those who made it clear they disliked him personally.

And he was right. All of the cookies were gone when he had arrived this evening to take over the "nightly" cleaning of the mess.

Thankfully, he was alone. Perhaps the chef had found the bar a more acceptable drinking location.

The silence was interrupted as the door swished open. He remained in his position on the floor and stopped scraping. He slowed his breath as the footsteps approached and walked towards the drink dispenser. He decided to stay where he was, obstructed from their view by the table.

"Dim-orah. De fetsu kolari sentar."

Sevek had to resist rolling his eyes; of course the two crew members were Vulcans.

He made sure to breathe quieter, now really not wanting to be discovered. The hum of the replicators on their cleaning cycle would probably drown him out, if he was careful.

There was a pause, and he watched one set of feet walk towards the table used for his cookie project, but then turned towards the door, newly replicated tea in hand.

"Seria kyvon de hesu maktar."

" _The hybrid made the off worlders food to be eaten with their hands. How shameful."_

Now, not only were they in there, but they were talking about **him**.

"Ha mohal. Keptar sor-del ran de hera sevar. De Raal mes kor-"

" _I agree. The hybrids disgrace all of Vulcan. When I was Raal, I saw-"_

They walked through the doorway and down the hall, their voices thankfully soft so he couldn't hear whatever racist comment was about to made.

Sevek breathed in deeply through his nose and returned to his scrubbing, resolving to continue to rise above the immaturity of apparently everyone in this crew.

He paused as the door opened again and someone stepped in. Sevek froze, and the figure didn't move. "Hello? I know you're here."

Sevek recognized that voice. The blond crew member who created the waffle fiasco and continued to make loud, pointed comments: Ensign Vido.

The steps started moving quickly around the room, as if he was looking for him. Sevek sighed and gave up by rising to his feet. "Yes, Ensign?"

The human turned around quickly at the sudden voice.

"The chef told me you were going to clean tonight in exchange for using the kitchen. I hope it was worth it," eyeballing the scraping stick.

"He gave you an accurate account." Sevek answered in a clipped tone and stood silently, hoping the young man had a point in this. "May I help you?"

"No, I was just saying how I knew you would be here. I came to tell you the Vulcans haven't been saying nice things about you."

"Ah, well, neither have you."

The blond scowled. "Well, we've got a lot of problems here, and we don't need hoity toity higher-ups messing around."

"I am hardly a higher up. I carry no formal rank, not having completed academy training."

The Ensign's scowl faded. "Yeah, I didn't know that until someone mentioned it today. It doesn't matter, we still don't need you bothering us."

Sevek raised an eyebrow. "I am not here to, as you put it, bother you. I am here on assignment to asses the psychology of the crew and repair it back to sanctioned standards."

The human said nothing in reply, but the scowl returned.

"Is there something I can help you with?" Sevek asked again.

The Ensign shook his head. "No, we don't need your help. But that doesn't mean I want to see you dead, like that other guy. Watch out, T'Jor's Vulcan posse really doesn't seem to like you."

 _The hybrids disgrace all of Vulcan._

"I see. Then I," Sevek paused, "appreciate your concern. I assure you I have dealt with hostilities from my father's people my entire life, I can handle them here as well."

"Father's people? You're...half Vulcan?"

Sevek shook his head affirmative. "My mother is human. If that is all, I must return to my work in order to maintain my kitchen access."

The human shook his head, seemingly eyeing him anew. "Just mind your own business and we'll all have your back." He turned to leave and Sevek went back to scrubbing.

"Oh," the blond paused at the door, "and thanks for making desert."

And with that he left, leaving Sevek to attempt to meditate to the sound of his scrubbing brush.

0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0

Sevek pressed the button to open his quarter's door, thankful to be done cleaning. His plan was to meditate, but the flashing of the light on PADD grabbed his attention, and he quickly reached over and opened the device.

MESSAGE FROM T'ZEL. Her reply was in written form, and he had to suppress his disappointment in not seeing and hearing her reply.

 _Greetings Sevek._

 _I am well. I apologise for the delay in reply as the console was having technical issues as a result of the storm I discussed in my previous communication. I was unaware it had hit the main supply line._

 _The meeting was unsatisfactory. The chairman will not listen to my requests in full, even though I have fulfilled all the technical requirements. If he would hear them, I believe he would agree. I cannot help but wonder where the logic lies within the government of this city._

 _Surely an environment such as what you described from your pre-deployment briefing will require significant adaptation._

 _T'Zel_

Sevek suppressed a frown. The storm damaging communications was concerning. She was in a rural area and needed contact into the city. He made a mental note to enquire if she had the entire system checked when the technicians arrived.

His eyes scanned over the message again. No comment on his sign off or enquiry into his welling being. That was somewhat acceptable; she would be able to sense any true danger to him through their bond.

He wasn't particularly surprised at her distance as she had been opposed to his plans all along. He knew she did truly care for him and always had. After all, she had **chosen** him.

Sevek's eyes scanned the small, sparsely decorated room as he sat down on the bed, the only option available to a counselor who carried no rank. Maybe he should have stayed near by her? Tried to bring the relationship closer on a day-to-day basis?

Most older Vulcan mates had intertwined lives as a result of children and family obligations, but little emotional connection. Ironically, they had the opposite. Or at least he thought so.

Sevek lightly shook his head; these thoughts weren't productive. She was dedicated to him and he to her. The current distance was inconsequential. They would again be as close as they were as young adults.

Since the structural government shakeup a few decades back, T'Zel had become quite disenfranchised with her architectural work. Once he was back on Earth in a comfortable position, he would convince her to leave the patronizing city commissions behind and join him for a new future.

He was sure of it.

A life where both of them could be free together of the judgement and scorn of the people of Vulcan.

Sevek laid back on the bed, falling asleep with the PADD in his hand and completely foregoing meditation, but more relaxed than he had been all week.

0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0\

The woman reviewed the reports, surprised at their complexity.

Sevek had encountered many of the problems that plagued the ship, and had been surprisingly dedicated in his seeking of them, despite the crew's hostility. She had partially anticipated this; Vulcans were known for their perseverance.

What she hadn't expected was for him to be this _perceptive_.

It was concerning.

He had proposed no formal solution in the report. She would have to ensure he did so in the next report to assess just how much he could gather from base interactions so she could take countermeasures against them.

She didn't know what to make of the cookie stunt from earlier. It seemed very un-Vulcan.

Perhaps his hybrid status affected him more than he let on.

In any case, she resolved to monitor him closely. For tonight, she took to editing his reports to Command, careful to remove each incriminating reference and detailed encounter.

0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0

AN / Please review as critically as possible! I'm new to fiction and _really_ thick skinned. By the way, I've used the cookie/food trick, and it works IRL.

I made up the Vulcan sentences. I'm sorry, fanon people. I looked online and found cool dictionaries, but I don't have the time and I couldn't find Vulcan in Google Translate. ;-) I kinda based it off of listening to T'Pol and her mother argue in the episode Home in ENT.

Thanks again to all the subs and reviews, and especially Tom Foolery for your encouragement and review. Go check out their stories if you like Spock/Uhura or Sarek/Amanda, their fics are some of my favorites, and I've read a lot of both pairings over the years! All tyops mine.


End file.
